


Not the Red Baron

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season 7 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds it difficult to deal and thinks that Dean is trying to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Red Baron

**Author's Note:**

> For majestic_shriek's birthday.

There’s a bed frame and Sam thinks he’s tied to it. He’s not sure. He could be asleep and dreaming or awake and dreaming or actually tied to it or just remembering. There might not even be a bed. He might be in the car or standing over an open grave with flames eating at his skin.

He can’t dig his finger into the wound. An open wound. That’s what he is.

There’s warmth along his side and he’s not certain but he thinks it’s from another person. It could be remembered, again. After all, sometimes Lucifer liked to spoon. Sam struggles. He’s got to press his hand and he can’t reach it which suggests he’s actually tied up. A rough mouth kisses his cheek and he starts, pulling at the bonds before turning, turning, turning, like the world keeps spinning around him and the bed spins even faster.

Dean’s there. Dean’s here, now. Dean’s pressing along his body and starts to hold him still, straddling his thighs until Sam can control the urge to throw him off. “Hey, Sam.” A cool cloth, wiping the sweat/grime/soot off his forehead and his cheeks and the back of his neck. It disappears for a moment, comes back colder and Sam comes back to himself.

He’s tied to the old bedframe in the abandoned house they were squatting in. He’s surprised it held out against his struggling but then Dean always was the best at knots. Sam feels weak, as if he’s been travelling a long, long time without a break. Dean mops his head again, checks Sam’s eyes and sits back on his heels. They watch each other. 

There have been times and times when they’ve sat like this before. Times where they’ve been fighting for real or for fun or because they were practising for either. There have been times when Dean’s needed to keep him still and down because he’s hurt himself or something has hurt him (and been taken out with calm vengeance, best served cold) and Dean has patched him up. And there have been times (and sometimes Sam thinks he’d dreamed them all or that they were the sweetest tortures. He’s never sure. Hell was a long time) when Dean would peel off his shirt, shuck his jeans and ride Sam like they were never brothers and were desperately so at the same time.

“Dean?” His voice didn’t sound like it belongs to him anymore. It’s someone else’s. A borrowed voice that doesn’t crack and burn. There are no rocks and iron spikes in it. 

Dean leans forward, bracing his hands on Sam’s chest. He rests his forehead against Sam’s and his breath is hot on Sam’s face. Dean’s touching him, but not touching him enough. There’s love here but none of the frenzy that would drive the mocking Lucifer in the corner of his mind/the room out and away. For a time, at least. His bonds are loose enough for Sam to stretch his head up and brush his lips against Dean’s.

Dean probably blames it on himhimhim. Don’t say his name. Voldemort. He pulls back, looking Sam directly in the eye and… no slap or punch, no fleeing (which is something since Dean is always running from his emotions, locking them down tight with a mixture of machismo and booze). Dean brushes the hair off his face and runs the cool cloth over his skin again. This time when he finishes, he drops a soft kiss on Sam’s lips of his own volition. Sam parts his mouth, but Dean doesn’t take it further, drawing back to continue to take care of him.

Sam wonders if this is some fresh new trick his mind is playing on him and the walls continue to tumble. His mind makes Dean look sad now, but he keeps on kissing Sam, like some fairy tale prince trying to wake the princess. It might work. Dean keeps trying.


End file.
